e discovered that Yerba was not only accomplished, but that
this convent-bred girl had acquired a singular breadth of knowledge
apart from the ordinary routine of the school curriculum. She spoke
and thought with independent perceptions and clearness, yet without the
tactlessness and masculine abruptness that is apt to detract from
feminine originality of reflection. By some tacit understanding that
had the charm of mutual confidence, they both exerted themselves to
please the company rather than each other, and Paul, in the interchange
of sallies with Dona Anna, had a certain pleasure in hearing Yerba
converse in Spanish with Don Caesar. But in a few moments he observed,
with some uneasiness, that they were talking of the old Spanish
occupation, and presently of the old Spanish families. Would she
prematurely expose an ignorance that might be hereafter remembered
against her, or invite some dreadful genealogical reminiscence that
would destroy her hopes and raze her Spanish castles? Or was she
simply collecting information? He admired the dexterity with which,
without committing herself, she made Don Caesar openly and even
confidentially communicative. And yet he was on thorns; at times it
seemed as if he himself were playing a part in this imposture of
Yerba's. He was aware that his wandering attention was noticed by the
quick-witted Dona Anna, when he regained his self-possession by what
appeared to be a happy diversion. It was the voice of Mrs. Judge Baker
calling across the table to Yerba. By one of the peculiar accidents of
general conversation, it was the one apparently trivial remark that in
a pause challenged the ears of all.

"We were admiring your necklace, Miss Yerba."

Every eye was turned upon the slender throat of the handsome girl. The
excuse was so natural.

Yerba put her hand to her neck with a smile. "You are joking, Mrs.
Baker. I know it is ridiculously small, but it is a child's necklace,
and I wear it because it was a gift from my mother."

Paul's heart sank again with consternation. It was the first time he
had heard the girl distinctly connect herself with her actual mother,
and for an instant he felt as startled as if the forgotten Outcast
herself had returned and taken a seat at the board.

"I told you it couldn't be so?" remarked Mrs. Baker, to her husband.

Everybody naturally looked inquiringly upon the couple, and Mrs. Baker
explained with a smile: "Bob thinks he's seen i